


DanAndPhilTWEETS

by deathlytireddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, as usual, horrifying terms of endearment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 01:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12180435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: “Stop looking sad,” Dan pokes his nose.“Ow.”-Behind the scenes of different tweets, inspired by my own crippling loneliness.





	1. everlasting as the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Implied sex and, like, mentioned sex? But in a jokey way it won’t scar you. (Probably. Don’t sue me.)

@danisnotonfire happy birthday to @amazingphil you may be on the road to death but the light and warmth you bring to our lives is as everlasting as the sun 

Phil is facing away from Dan, looking through their closet for something to wear when he hears his phone go off. He picks it up, pauses at the tweet in his notifications.

Dan is still in bed, wrapped in the duvet and looking sleepy and rumpled, watching Phil.

They so rarely do this, have kept themselves behind a wall, the rest of the world on the other side.

But Phil doesn’t think he’ll ever be used to Dan doing something publicly. 

He looks up at Dan. 

Dan is sitting up against the pillows now. The long line of his throat and the top of his bare chest visible, dotted with fading red marks

He needs a shower, his eyes have dark blue and purple bruises under them, making the iris seem almost black. 

Phil resists looking through the replies on the tweet. He’ll answer in a minute. He sets the phone down and climbs under the covers, curls an arm around Dan’s soft waist. 

“You should wear eye shadow,” he says, instead of all the other things he wants to say. 

Dan raises his eyebrows, a smile forming. “What color?”

“Something dark.” 

“Okay.” Dan kisses the line of Phil’s collarbone to his shoulder, traces the freckles there with his fingers. “I’ll add that to our 2017 plans.” 

“Good. And concealer.” 

Dan rolls his eyes, making a faux annoyed sound. “At least mine matches!”

“It does not.” 

Phil’s phone goes off again, the sound for a text from Martyn. He sits up and reads the text. It has several suggestive emojis and “have a good night?” 

He shows Dan.

“Well, he’s not wrong.” 

Phil shoves him. “Fuck off, you make declarations of love every time you look at me.” 

“I resent that.” Dan sits up and yawns widely. “Now answer it, before everyone and your brother think we’ve divorced.”

“Or are doing something else,” Phil says suggestively.

“Fucking hell.” Dan looks disgruntled. “Not for three million years.” He flops back down and throws an arm over his eyes. 

“Do you think our stardust was having sex three million years ago?” Phil asks innocently. He loves winding Dan up, it’s one of his favorite activities.

Dan slowly lowers his arm until his unimpressed, but secretly amused, eyes are visible. He glares at Phil. “Absolutely.” 

Phil secretly likes the idea of their stardust being together. It sounds like one of those text posts on tumblr. 

“We should get dressed,” Dan says, sitting up again and stretching his arms above his head. His neck cracks several times, and he makes a low moaning sound. 

“Why?” Phil asks, just generally.

“Don’t know, really. Because you’re in the room?” Dan winks horribly and stands, bringing the duvet with him. 

Phil whines.

“I need to protect my modesty, Phil.” He leans down and drops a kiss on Phil’s forehead, suddenly serious again. “Happy birthday, you old rusting spoon.” 

“Thanks.” He pulls on Dan’s blanket until he leans down a bit more and kisses him quickly. Dan’s breath isn’t the greatest. 

“Now go shower, before we have to fumigate the house.”

Dan grumbles something about dead romance as he leaves, but Phil sees him smile, the crinkly one that always gets him. 

“Love you!” He calls. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Then, “Love you too!” 

Phil unlocks his phone and taps reply, giggling evilly. 

A moment later Dan returns, blanket trailing behind him. “Emojis?! I pour my heart and soul out and you give me emojis?” 

Phil stands and pushes him toward the bathroom. “I thought you didn’t have a soul?” 

Dan pouts, letting himself be pushed along. Phil suspects it’s only because he knows Phil will join him. He’s always following Dan, or walking with him. 

“Stop looking sad,” Dan pokes his nose. 

“Ow.”

“Baby.”

“Sexy stardust.”

Dan groans. “That is not becoming a thing.”


	2. wouldn’t let me follow phil through a door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The angst train has arrived.

@danisnotonfire i just accidentally did the ‘don’t you know who i am’ to a bbc receptionist who wouldn’t let me follow phil through a door 

Arriving at the BBC is always harrowing. 

They’re running late, Phil several feet in front of him and already near the door. Dan can’t even hold his hand so they aren’t separated in the crowd.

Phil enters, Dan walking faster to catch up. 

He pushes open the doors, taking a deep breath. Inside is quieter, the heavy feeling of being watched lifting.

Phil is already gone. He’s a little bit annoyed with Dan, or more than a little bit. Dan had overslept, Phil hadn’t given him a chance to explain he was tired and slept through his alarm. He’d ordered the wrong take out, the one Phil detested. 

Dan had snapped at him, complained, rolled his eyes. 

Phil is having one of those days, and Dan is having one of those days. They normally avoid each other, knowing they just need space. But that isn’t possible today.

He rubs his eyes, making his way toward their studio. 

“Excuse me!” 

Dan frowns, turning away from a door. A receptionist is marching towards him, looking outraged. 

“Yes?” Dan frowns, looks at the time. The show should be starting now. Phil, their producer, the whole of the BBC is going to kill him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She has a posh voice, the fake kind that grates on his already frayed nerves.

“I work here,” Dan says. “I’m Dan Howell.” He hopes he looks as frustrated as he feels. “You don’t know who I am?”

“No, I don’t think you belong here.”

What does he say to that? Dan opens and closes his mouth. He searches his pockets, finds he’s forgotten his card.

The door opens and Phil appears, looking properly angry. “What’re you doing?” He hisses, barely looking at the woman. 

“Trying to get in!” Dan retorts. 

Phil shakes his head and pulls Dan inside. “They’re playing another song, hurry up.”

Dan follows, hurt. Phil might take a minute to let Dan explain, instead of blaming him for everything.

They get into position just in time, Dan still putting his headphones on when the show starts.

-

It’s tense.

He knows it, Phil knows it, their frustrated producer knows it. 

Afterward, he goes into the toilets and sits, pressing his fingers under his eyes. He’s exhausted, wants to be home hiding under a blanket. Doesn’t want to worry about walking through another crowd, with more angry security.

He wants to be able to hold Phil’s fucking hand. 

His stomach rumbles, reminding him he’s barely eaten that day.

The bathroom door opens. He hears Phil shuffle around, come to stand outside his stall.

“Dan. I’m sorry.”

Dan wants to be stubborn the way Phil is. Instead he stands and opens the door. Phil is holding a bottle of water and a bag of crisps, looking guilty. 

Dan takes the crisps. “Thanks.” He avoids Phil’s eyes, carefully opening the bag. 

“Dan, I’m sorry,” Phil repeats.

Dan shrugs. “I’m not being the best person either.” 

Phil makes a hurt noise. “You look awful.” He cups Dan’s face, forcing him to look up. “I’m sorry.”

Dan’s eyebrows rise. Phil looks too apologetic. “Okay. What happened?”

Phil hesitates. “I might’ve called my mum.”

“About me?” Dan eats one of his crisps, tense shoulders slowly going down.

Phil looks embarrassed now. “I felt really bad!” He defends. “I can be so stubborn-“

Dan makes a noise of agreement.

“-and I don’t listen when I should.”

“You just figured this out?” Dan shakes his head. He’s smiling despite himself. “How functional of us.”

Phil shoves his shoulder, gentle. “This is what happens when you don’t sleep with me! The world comes to an end.” 

“I didn’t want to keep you up.” Dan passes him a crisp. “These taste like shit. Next time you're a horrible boyfriend buy me something better.”

“I thought we were partners now?” 

Dan’s chest warms. They’d had that conversation not very long ago. Neither of them had mentioned it since, not really needing to. 

“Maybe. I might have changed my mind after you broke my heart, you know.”

Phil looks tense. “And mended it with crisps, right?” 

“I guess.” He makes a face. “Can we leave the toilet now? This’ll look really weird if someone walks in.”

Phil nods, stepping out of the way. 

Dan throws the crisps in the bin and finds Phil’s hand, squeezing. “I was horrible too, okay? Stop being mean to yourself.” 

“Only if you stop too.” 

“I think I can manage that.” 

-

They get home, change into pajamas and sit on the sofa with hot chocolates and a nest of blankets. The tv is on, but they aren’t paying much attention to it.

Dan’s halfway asleep, head on Phil’s shoulder. Phil is tracing the lines on his hand, trying to read his palm with a book. 

“According to this you’ll have children,” Phil says. 

“Hmmm,” Dan mumbles. 

“Sixteen dozen, maybe.” 

Dan knows that isn’t true, having read the book already. But he humors Phil. “Fabulous.” 

“Did that woman really stop you from following me?” Phil sounds amused. “I guess I’m more famous than you.” 

“That’s always been true.” Dan shuffles closer, hooking a leg over Phil’s lap. “Phil Trash #1, and all that.” He yawns widely. “Good night.”

Phil laughs softly. “Good night, then.” 

Dan hums. Phil closes the book and pulls the blankets up higher. “I’m still sorry,” he says softly.

Dan takes a moment to answer. “Maybe we need to work on not being mean to each other when we’re having a bad day. But you don’t need to be sorry.” 

“We should have this figured out by now.” 

Dan opens his eyes, lifts his head off Phil’s shoulder to see him properly. “That isn’t true and you know it. We might be Dan and Phil, uppercase. But we’re also just Dan and Phil, sitting in our house, with our normal problems and our normal life.”

“Okay.” Phil smiles a bit. “I forget that, sometimes.”

“Me too. And don’t be sorry about that, either.” Dan cups his jaw. “Please.” 

“I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a little nervous about this one. I’ve never written about them not getting along-even though this isn’t really a fight.
> 
> And I doubt this is what really happened, but inspiration struck and I wanted to write something a little less cheery and fluffy. I don’t know if they mentioned the tweet in a liveshow or not. Just pretend if they did.


	3. i actually pierced my bum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dan sees the butt.

@amazingphil I sat on one of Dan’s earrings on the sofa arm and it went all the way into my butt cheek. I actually pierced my bum.

Dan is playing guild wars 2 at his desk, humming the theme music under his breath and oblivious to the world.

He doesn’t hear a small yelp from the lounge, doesn’t hear Phil runnng into the bathroom. He doesn’t hear the outraged curses or Phil’s loud stomping as he walks into the room.

“Dan!” 

Dan imitates a cello.

“Dan!” 

Dan glances away from the screen. Phil is standing in the doorway, holding something in his hand. He’s removed his trousers. 

Dan rests his headphones around his neck, the music too loud. He smiles innocently. “Yes, dear?” 

Phil marches toward him, and now Dan can see his pants are falling down. He helpfully pulls them back up, gets a slapped hand. “Ow! What was that for!” 

Phil sets one of his earrings in front of Dan. Dan frowns, reaching up. One of his earrings has fallen out. 

“Did you find the back?” He shakes his hoodie. Sometimes it falls in his hood.

“It might be in my bum,” Phil says. 

Dan opens his mouth. What? “Right. Okay. Did you get into the tequila?”

Phil scoffs. “I tried sitting on the sofa and it went into my butt!”

Dan winces. That does sound painful, even if he’s trying not to laugh. “Do you want me to look at it?” He turns the volume down on his laptop and saves the game.

Phil moves from foot to foot. “Isn’t that...weird?”

Dan stares up at him blankly. “I have seen your ass. On many occasions. This ass and I have been through many problems. They don’t all have to be sexy.” He smirks. “They haven’t been.”

“Fine! Fine.” Phil cuts him off before he can mention that incident. He turns around, crossing his arms.

Dan pulls the waistband down a bit, enough to see the injury. He whistles. “This thing is a weapon. Does it hurt?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you want me to stitch you up?” 

“A plaster will suffice, Doctor.”

Dan wrinkles his nose. That doesn’t sound very sexy. “Not nurse?” He stands, pulling Phil’s waistband up and giving him a wedgie. 

They walk to the bathroom, Dan taking a brief detour to open their props trunk and don a nurse’s cap. 

Phil is waiting in the bathroom, typing on his phone. He sighs when he sees it. “Really?”

Dan shrugs and opens the medicine cabinet, finding antiseptic and a plaster. Phil turns around, still typing a tweet. He leans forward on his elbows on the counter.

“This looks so bad, Phil. Want me to tweet a picture?” Dan waits for outrage.

Phil looks over his shoulder, eyes wide. “Daniel! No!” 

Dan snickers. “Not even for private usage?” He hopes Phil will say yes. It’s good blackmail material.

Phil kicks him. “Get on with it.”

Dan wets a cotton ball and dabs at the puncture gently. He can mess with Phil all he likes, but it does look painful. 

“I’m sorry to your beautiful butt.” 

“Thanks,” Phil says sarcastically. He sets his phone on the counter and watches Dan in the mirror. 

Dan meets his gaze, mouth twitching. 

Phil widens his eyes, mouth forming a silent moan. 

Dan giggles, leaning against Phil. His shoulders shake silently, his face in his hands. 

“P-Phil!” Dan wheezes. “We’re so stupid!” 

“I know,” Phil giggles. Dan’s face is turning red, the nurse’s cap is falling over his eyebrow.

Phil adjusts it. “There you go, Nurse Dan,” he says, small noises still escaping. 

Dan presses his lips together, trying to keep a straight face. “Thank you, Mr Lester. What a good patient you’ve been.” He dissolves into laughter again, hiding his face in Phil’s neck. He’s too tired for this.

He takes deep, gasping breathes. His shoulders are trembling under Phil’s hands. “Do you forgive me?”

“I guess.” Phil takes a deep breath. His face hurts. “If you put a plaster on me?”

Dan nods, dimples pressed deep into his cheeks. He leans over Phil again, sticking a marvel plaster on his bum. 

“There you go, all fixed up.” 

Phil turns around. “Thank you, Nurse.” He takes the cap off of Dan and sets it on the counter, looping his arms around Dan’s neck. “Can I have my Dan back?” 

Dan puts his hands on Phil’s hips. “No, never,” he jokes. “Dan is dead.”

Phil pouts. “Really?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Dan’s lips twitch.

Phil sighs loudly. “Forever?” 

“Ye-“ Dan starts, but Phil leans up the barest bit and kisses him lightly, playfully. Dan bites down, making a fake moaning sound. 

Phil snorts.

“Phil!” Dan breaks away, wiping his face. “I don’t want Phil germs on my face!” He says, outraged. At least he doesn’t most of the time, anyway.

“Haha, oops.”

Dan tickles his thighs, pressing Phil into the counter so he can’t escape. Phil pushes at him, laughing. 

“No, no, no! Stop!” 

Dan finally relents, laughing into Phil’s shoulder. “Right,” Dan he says, “Let’s make dinner?” 

Phil pokes Dan’s bare stomach. “No, I don’t think so.”

“No! I’m innocent!”


	4. it hurts not to laugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some 2011 phan. It got a bit out of hand. Oh well.
> 
> Big thank you to alittledizzy on tumblr for telling me why they were even on a train lol.

@AmazingPhil Omg some old woman opposite us is making voldemort noises on the train and dan keeps saying Harryyy and it hurts not to laugh

They’re leaving summer in the city, bone weary and drained, ready to collapse into bed with a hot chocolate and be their special version of alone. 

Dan’s leaning against the glass of a train window, Phil’s having given him the window seat, lucky bastard. Dan is technically the only one who can actually appreciate it, as Phil’s motion sickness is acting up. 

That doesn’t stop him from admiring Dan’s profile, illuminated in that special kind of early morning light, still tinged pink. 

Phil might be feeling a little silly.

Dan’s neck is bent at an awkward angle, tendons and collarbones sticking out in a way that should not be attractive but somehow is. His nose is pointy and long, pink lips parted as he exhales.

Dan blows his fringe out of his eyes, glances at Phil with a frown. “What?” He mouthes.

Phil shakes his head. Dan slowly turns away, suspicious but smiling a bit. Pleased. 

“Nyahh!” 

Dan jumps, eyes darting around. Phil scans the room, finally settles on the old woman across from him. An old phone is pressed to her ear, a magazine clutched in her hand.

“I don’t know what the word is!” Her voice is surprisingly shrill and angry.

Dan looks to Phil, bemused. Phil shrugs helplessly.

“Nyeah!” It sounds exactly like voldemort, but the higher pitched, grandmotherly version. 

Dan covers his mouth, shoulders shaking. He shakes his head, letting out a tiny noise. 

He’s beautiful.

Dan leans toward Phil over their arm rest, large brown eyes filled with mirth. “Harry!” He says into Phil’s ear.

Phil shoves him, quickly checking to make sure the old woman hasn’t noticed. She’s still arguing on the phone, making that same sound.

“It’s a laugh,” Dan whispers into his ear, voice shaking. His bony shoulder is jammed into Phil’s, but Phil can’t bring himself to mind.

They have just enough sleep deprivation and leftover adrenaline to make this ridiculous and more funny than it is. 

“Harryyy!” Dan says hoarsely, voice low and dramatic.

“Stop!” Phil says, trying not to let a sound escape as his shoulders shake. “S-shut up, I hate you!”

Dan pouts, lower lip jutting out dramatically. Phil can see a raw, scabbed over bit. 

“Harryyy, what is my word! Tell meee!” 

“The word is ‘I hate you!’” 

Dan’s hair falls in his eyes, covering his sparkling laughter wet eyes. “Nooo, Harryyy, what is the word?”

“I’m telling you it isn’t that long!” The woman says angrily, makes that noise again. 

Phil covers his face, tongue sticking out. Dan stops laughing for a moment, just gazes at him. Phil’s eyebrows crease, tilts his head questioningly.

“Nothing, Harry,” Dan says, poking his knee. There’s a gleam in his eye that isn’t just tears.

“Oh! That’s it, Tony! Zoanthropy!” 

Phil wipes under his eyes with his sleeve, shaking his head. Somehow the old woman hasn’t noticed them. “You're evil. Pure evil.”

“Sure. The embodiment of Satan,” Dan agrees easily. His face has gone completely red, hair mussed and lips bitten red.

Dan looks at him for a long moment, pushing at pieces of his fringe. “Stop that,” He says finally, just as Phil’s beginning to squirm. 

“Stop what?” Phil asks, going for innocent. The sun has gone behind a cloud, casting shadows in all the crevices of Dan’s neck and face.

“That,” Dan gestures unhelpfully, face flushing from more than just laughter. “Looking at me like...that. Like I hung the frickin’ moon or something.” He mumbles the last bit, clearly embarrassed. 

Phil reaches over, squeezes his knee quickly. “I can’t help it,” he says truthfully. 

Dan doesn’t answer for a minute. “Oh,” he says finally, smiling a small, secretive smile.

“Nyeeaah!” 

“Holy fuck,” Dan hides his face in his hands. “Holy fucking-“

“Think of the children,” Phil reminds him. Dan peaks through his fingers, meets Phil’s gaze. 

“Okay, Philly.” 

That feels like something else, like Dan means something else, though Phil doesn’t know what. 

“Good. Or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap!” 

“Noo, don’t do that, Harryyy,” Dan giggles, the moment broken. 

That’s alright though. Dan reaches over and finds his fingers, gives them a quick squeeze and a kiss to his knuckles. 

They share a secret smile, as the old couple argue over the phone. 

-

Later, the old woman drops her purse and asks “Harry” to pick it up.

Phil is mortified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much later than I wanted it to be. Life got in the way, blah blah. I’ll try to update much more frequently now!


	5. all i want

@danisnotonfire december just began and @AmazingPhil has played ‘all i want for christmas’ on a loop for 3 hours i’m not the grinch but this needs to stop

Dan is ready to die.

The smell of burnt cookies is drifting down the hall, going under the bedroom door and invading his nose. He’s trying to write a script for a video; Mariah Carey’s voice and Phil’s kitchen banging isn't helping. 

Suddenly the music stops, only to start again much louder and clearer sounding. 

The fucker is using Dan’s personal bluetooth speaker. Dan grumbles under his breath, turns around in his chair to look for his headphones, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

If he leaves his room Phil will hear and Dan’ll be roped into helping, without his consent. 

Dan slowly stands, opening his door as quietly as possible. He tiptoes down the hall, peaks around the doorframe into the kitchen to see Phil swaying his hips as he cuts out cookies and sets them on a tray. 

Dan slowly edges passed, grateful for his socks. He makes it into the lounge, spots his headphones on an arm rest.

The music stops.

“Dan?” Phil calls cheerfully. “Taste test?”

Damnit.

Dan puts on his headphones, forgetting they aren’t attached to anything and the cord is dangling by his knees. He walks away purposely, hoping Phil won’t interrupt.

Phil just smiles at him, eyes catching onto the dangling cord but not saying anything. “Have fun editing the new gaming video!” He says, waving Dan away. There is an evil glint in his eye.

Dan sighs. “Right.” 

-

The music doesn’t stop. 

He edits the gaming video while Phil bakes and dances, emerges from the gaming room with headphones stubboringly fixed over his ears, Frank Ocean drowning out Mariah Carey.

He comes up behind Phil, who’s sitting at the dining table and decorating a plate of sugar cookies. 

Phil looks up, lifts a headphone off Dan’s ear. “Hello,” he says. “Did you edit?” 

Dan rests his headphones around his neck, mouth twitching up as his music mixes with Phil’s. “Yes,” he says, leaning down and putting his arms around Phil’s shoulders. “Will you take pity?”

“No,” Phil says instantly. He pushes a chair out with his foot and offers Dan a tube of red decorating gel.

Dan collapses into his chair dramatically, puts his headphones back on, and starts making the Cookie Santa to end all Cookie Santas.

Phil is mouthing along to the music, though Dan can’t hear it. Dan spots their Christmas tree, still in it’s box, and a pile of decorations on the sofa. He smiles.

-

It’s evening time. Phil has eaten several cookies, has had a sugar high that Dan at least got to enjoy, and is now lounging on the sofa while Dan puts the tree together.

“At least give me that,” Dan whines, gesturing to a branch by Phil’s knee. 

Phil hands it over grudgingly. “Only if you dance?”

“No.” 

Dan attaches the branch and plugs in the lights. They blink slowly, casting multicolored light around the room. He hears Phil stand and walk to the light switch, hears the click as it turns off. 

It’s pretty, in a cheesy way. They have several vanilla candles light around the room, rain quietly falls against the windows. 

Phil lowers the volume on the music and pulls Dan up. He can just make out Phil’s smirk.

“No, no.” Dan shoves at him, still holding on so he doesn’t actually leave. Dan is not doing this. Dan is supposed to be annoyed. “I’m supposed to be mad at you,” he says.

“Why?” Phil threads their fingers and twirls Dan. Dan goes willingly. 

“Because my ears are bleeding. And because you didn’t help me with the tree.”

“That’s not good.” Phil maneuvers Dan around the room, settles Dan’s arms around his neck. “Do you need an appointment with Doctor Lester?”

“Christ, no.” 

Phil attempts to put his hands in Dan’s back pockets, only to remember he’s wearing pajamas. 

Dan snorts. “Did you just grope me?” He knows exactly what happened; Phil does it every other day. 

“No,” Phil says primly.

“Right.” Dan lifts Phil’s hand and spins him around the room. Candle light flickers in his eyes, makes them dark blue and shot through with silver.

Phil’s hands settle back on Dan’s waist. “Dip me?”

Dan’s overcome with something. 

“Sure,” he whispers. 

He leans Phil down, hands settled on the small of his back. He wants to feel every inch of Phil. He’s warmth and gentleness, soft hands finding Dan’s face in the dark, finger tracing the outline of his mouth. 

“Why do we do this at the most random times?” 

Phil laughs. “I don’t know.” 

Dan shifts, pulls Phil back up but keeps him close, chin resting on Phil’s shoulder. “You're warm,” he whispers, not even embarrassed. He can be silly and sappy when he wants to be.

“You’re cold,” Phil replies, voice equally soft.

They sway, barely moving. Phil’s a melted piece of marshmallow in Dan’s arms, soft and leaning on him. 

“Was this your plan all along?” Dan asks, realizing it as he says it. He should have known. 

Phil does this at least every other month, makes Dan annoyed so he stays away until he doesn’t, until he comes back for hugs and attention. 

“Maaybe,” Phil giggles. “It’s funny.”

“Rude,” Dan huffs. He’s smiling into Phil’s jumper. “Manipulation.”

“Philanation,” Phil corrects.

Dan rolls his eyes, nudges Phil’s foot. “No, that is not becoming a thing.”

“Yes it is.”

“No, never. Not while I’m alive.”

“Well...” 

“Phil!” Dan exclaims, embarrassed as it comes out with more of a “w” sound than he meant.

“Phiw!” Phil mocks, pushing his way under Dan’s hoodie and tickling his ribs.

Dan shoves at him, wanting to get away from the cruel, cold fingers but not wanting to leave Phil. He covers Phil’s mouth with his own, deciding on a new course of action.

Phil makes a small, suprised sound, fingers stilling under Dan’s shirt. He leans closer, tilts his head to get the angle right. 

Dan smiles, accidentally knocking their teeth together. Phil flicks his side in retaliation, but parts his lips and bites down on Dan’s bottom lip, so he can’t be too annoyed.

They’ve stopped swaying, focused on the push and the pull and the traveling fingers, the breaking apart for breath and the small noises building in Dan’s throat.

They break apart slowly, reluctantly, lips swollen and faces warm. Dan’s sure the temperature has gone up. He smiles, kisses under Phil’s ear and tucks his nose there, inhaling faded cologne.

“Merry Christmas,” Phil says. Dan’s pleased to hear his voice has gone down an octave.

“You too, Philipulator.”

“Manipulator?”

“Yeah.” Dan smiles, reaches over and flicks the lights on. They blink, eyes adjusting. “Dinner?” 

Phil nods. “Something without sugar, please. I’ll never be the same.”

“Okay,” Dan laughs. “Something without sugar.” He’ll make that work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	6. perpetual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went a little overboard with this one. 
> 
> I’m not sorry.

@danisnotonfire okay phil’s in europe which means i officially have the apartment to myself for a few days. TIME TO PARTAY! GET THE COKE AND STRIPPERS!! 

@danisnotonfire of course by coke i mean the internet and by strippers i mean perpetual loneliness.

@danisnotonfire will my greatest challenge be; a) turning off the lights at night - or be) resisting the urdge to get domino’s every day ?¿?

@danisnotonfire i’m simultaneously tired of being bored and alone on the internet yet too antisocial and lazy to hang out with people #?¿?

@danisnotonfire i’ve realised i could never live alone I’M GOING INSANE. i’m having an existential crisis but there’s no one to waffle at what do i do

Favorited by Dan:

@wirrow i thought i was hungry so i ate and then i thought i was thirsty so i drank but i wasn’t either i just really missed you #tinystories

Dan closes the door behind Phil, locking in the silence. 

He doesn’t mind being alone. It’s more that he minds being alone without Phil. 

That doesn’t make sense to most people but that’s never bothered them. They have absolutely everything they need under this roof, so long as that roof covers both of them. 

Dan cracks his knuckles, takes out his phone to see Phil has sent a broken heart and a sad face. He can still hear Phil on the stairs, suitcase thudding on the steps. 

Dan agrees.

-

He makes popcorn, sits down to watch a movie he’s rented. Phil doesn’t like sad movies, and if he does he likes the generic kind of sadness that doesn’t hurt. 

Another text from Phil, this one saying he’s going through security and the men look scary. 

Dan’s lips twitch. It’s good to know he isn’t the only pathetic one in the relationship.

‘you’re going to die.’ He sends, gets a sad smiley face and then the middle finger emoji. 

Dan can’t help sending a ‘good luck’ and then a grumpy face. 

He pushes his cold, half eaten popcorn away and lays down on the sofa, facing the tv on his side. He suddenly wishes for a dog or something to cuddle with. 

‘get back here before i go insane, plz’ 

-

Dan isn’t a pathetic, love sick fool. He’s a responsible, grown up adult. He’s just bored. Wants someone to waffle at or complain to or discuss the movie he’s just watched. 

Dan goes around the flat, dutifully watering Phil’s houseplants. He fills the washing machine, irons a few shirts. Because Dan’s an adult. He doesn’t mope when his boyfriend goes away for just a few days. 

-

His grandma facetimes him, something she’s recently learned how to do and won’t stop doing. 

She’s drinking tea on her porch, a home baked scone on a china plate in her lap. “How are you, dear?” She asks once the call connects, grainy and pixely.

“I’m okay” he answers half truthfully. 

His grandma gives him that look, the one that had sent him hiding under beds and inside wardrobes when he was little. Only now he hasn’t stolen a cookie. 

“If you say so.” She sips her tea delicately. “I was looking at Twitter earlier today, and I couldn’t help noticing-“

“Grandma...” Dan winces. He’s being so stupid, so- 

“Daniel,” she says sternly. “Your dad used to go on business trips when you were a baby. I remember how your mother would be.” 

Another sip of tea. Dan tries to come up with something to say. Apparently this runs in the family. Being bored and mopey when alone. 

“There’s nothing wrong with missing him, dear. It means you care, doesn’t it?” 

That’s a point. Still-

“It’s only for few days!” It pours out in a jumbled rush, probably not making much sense. “I’m being annoying and-clingy. I shouldn’t be like this. It’s not healthy, right? Independence is important in relationships, isn’t it? You used to travel alone.”

“And your grandad hated it,” she reminds him. Doesn’t say anything else, just that. She’s giving him that look again, the annoyed maternal one.

Dan slumps. “I know.”

-

Dan skypes Phil that night under a blanket, drinking a hot chocolate with pink marshmallows. 

Phil looks tired and worn out but happy, smiles excitedly when the call connects and he can see Dan.

“Danny!” 

His hair is damp from a shower, the tops of his shoulders visible. He looks to be sitting up in bed. 

Dan is reminded of their early days. 

“Phil,” he smiles into his hoodie. “Are you okay?” That’s the important part. As long as Phil is okay Dan can be okay, too. 

“Yes! Paris is beautiful!” He sounds genuinely excited and happy. 

Dan sets his empty hot chocolate on the nightstand and scoots down the bed, resting his smile on a pillow. 

Phil doesn’t mention the tweets, probably knowing Dan doesn’t want to talk about it. Dan’s grateful, even as he catches Phil’s concerned eyes.

He listens to Phil talk until he falls asleep. 

-

‘Good morning!’ Is waiting for Dan when he checks his phone. He sends back a few emojis of coffee and the sun. 

He makes his way into the kitchen, barely avoiding banging his head on the clear kitchen door. Who ever designed this flat wanted people to die, he thinks, almost makes a joke to an empty room.

Dan sits down with a bowl of cereal and his laptop, checks social media and scrolls through his twitter mentions. Phil would never let him this early in the morning, not before he’s woken up properly.

Dan favorites a few things, sends a screenshot of a funny meme to Phil. Phil doesn’t answer.

Fuck. 

Dan is not doing this. He rubs under his eyes. Washes his bowl and takes a shower. 

He’ll get out, go for a walk and find lunch. That’ll stop him from going insane. 

-

The tube is appropriately sticky and strange smelling. Dan takes it to a park nearby and walks. They do actually exercise, as much as they pretend they don’t. Dan would look like a beached whale otherwise. 

He finds a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, orders some kind of vegan sandwich. It tastes alright, even if he wonders what it’s made of.

-

Phil is back.

Dan opens the door, hopes his tired eyes aren’t too noticeable. He doesn’t want Phil to worry about him, as much as he wants Phil to worry about him. 

But Phil’s eyes match, looking almost worse.

They crowd each other against the wall, take turns kissing and feeling. Phil smells different, like hotel soap and detergent. 

Dan clings to him. “I’m not letting you leave again,” he says, threateningly but not really.

Phil laughs, a low, snotty sound. “I can make that work.” He kisses Dan’s mouth and pulls him toward their bedroom, away from the suitcase and Phil’s coat laying forgotten on the floor. 

-

“It’s like-it’s not like I can’t exist without you.” Dan blinks in the dim lighting. 

They’re laying in bed facing each other, breath mingling in the warm air. Dan’s arm is curled around Phil’s naked side and Phil’s fingertips are gently rubbing his shoulder. 

Dan feels naked, in more ways than one. They’ve showered, barely toweled off before climbing into bed with a leftover pizza. The box is discarded on the floor somewhere. 

“I’m not-I’m not clingy,” he says, insistent but not needing to be. 

Phil smooths his hair, keeps his hand on Dan’s cheek. “I know.” 

“I just hate being alone. It’s not about you.” Dan bites his lip, feels immediately guilty. Phil doesn’t look hurt, but that doesn’t mean anything. 

“I mean, it is about you. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Phil examines a stray curl. “I miss you too, you know. You can’t have all the credit.”

Dan smiles fleetingly. He’ll never stop liking the way Phil can instantly relieve the tension, prod and push it until it goes away. 

“I just mean-if there was another Phil Lester, without dyed hair, or something, I’d miss him just as much. I don’t like being alone.” Dan feels like he’s going round in circles. “I’m not clingy, am I? This isn’t unhealthy, or-or bad?”

Phil makes a hurt noise, scoots closer and brushes their lips together so softly it hurts. “It’s just the way we are, the way you are. You’re not hurting me, Dan.” 

That’s what’s been worrying him all along, he thinks. He just didn’t know it. Dan relaxes, sinking into the pillows and the arm that comes up around him. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Phil shifts, somehow managing to reach over and turn the lights off without leaving Dan. “Goodnight. I’ll be here in the morning, yeah?” 

“Mmm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m running out of tweets! If you have any suggestions you can comment them here or send an ask on my tumblr, which is linked below.
> 
> Please keep in mind many tweets-especially the 2009 ones-are fake. If your tweet isn’t written that’s probably why. 
> 
> I’m also not likely to write something that’s just been tweeted, as I’d like them to talk about it in a liveshow first if I want to write it. 
> 
> :)


	7. dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kind of weird about this one. Thoughts? (I seek that validation.)

@AmazingPhil I just heard Dan in the bathroom asking Siri ‘is Jay-Z an atheist?’ 

Early mornings aren’t something Phil likes. He’s not a morning person, not without at least two cups of coffee. 

He really doesn’t like it when he blinks his eyes open to dim lighting and the sounds of birds. 

He groans, shuffling, reaches across the bed expecting firm warmth and an arm to slip under. But the blankets are barely warm, only a small dent telling him Dan left a while ago. 

Phil groans ago, pats around on the nightstand until he finds his phone.

It’s too early. 

Dan is one of those people that can sleep for sixteen hours and Phil isn’t far behind him.

They had gone to bed earlier than usual but neither should have woken for another hour at least. 

Phil groans again, tries to listen for the sounds of Dan moving in the kitchen down the hall, or the tv playing. 

Nothing. 

He slides out of bed, worry creeping up on him. He shouldn’t be. Dan might have gone to eat something and fallen asleep on the sofa. He could be doing anything.

Phil finds a pair of pajama pants and makes his slow way down the hall. Dan isn’t in the kitchen or the lounge, though a light has been left on and an empty cereal bowl is sitting on the sofa’s arm rest. 

Phil’s been telling him off for doing that as long as he can remember. He sets it in the sink, steals a biscuit out of Dan’s secret supply. 

“Dan?” He calls. No answer.

If he’s wearing headphones in the gaming room, oblivious to everything, Phil is going to end him. 

But Dan isn’t in the gaming room. The lights are off, camera equipment resting where it always is. Phil frowns. Real, proper worry is prickling his skin. 

The bathroom is next. He’ll look there, and then let himself start freaking out. 

He walks down the stairs, stomach tightening. He takes a breath. Dan is fine. 

“Siri-“ 

Phil frowns, leans closer to the bathroom door and presses his ear against it.

“Siri-fucking hell, why don’t you ever work-“ 

That’s Dan.

Phil’s going to kill him.

“Is Jay-Z an atheist?”

Phil pushes open the door, glaring. 

Dan is sitting on the closed toilet lid, phone in his hands. Wispy strands of hair rest on his forehead. He must’ve been awake for a while, then. 

Dan looks up. “Why are you awake?” His eyes flit over Phil’s body.

“I’m fine,” He says, almost touched by Dan’s concern. “Why are you awake?” 

Dan shifts, looking strangely guilty. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

Phil can see right through him. He almost says something, but Dan isn’t the thin, barely able to care for himself teenager he once was. 

“Okay.” 

He pushes Dan off the toilet and out of the bathroom, ignoring Dan’s amused smile. 

Phil pees, tries to fix his hair, but it looks untamable at the moment. He tells himself that Dan is fine, that he’s being unreasonable. 

Dan is leaning against the wall when Phil opens the door, scrolling on his phone. He looks up, eyes Phil’s naked chest when he stretches.

Phil is about to complain about that when Dan says, “D’you want me to make you coffee?”

“Yes,” Phil agrees instantly. 

He doesn’t say anything else, lets Dan leave. It’s fine.

-

Phil drinks the coffee Dan makes him and eats a bowl of cereal Dan pours for him. 

Dan is being strange today. 

He covers Phil’s legs with a blanket and brings him his laptop, biting his lip and treating Phil like he’s something fragile. 

Then Dan vanishes again. He was typing something on his laptop, but when Phil looks up next he’s gone. 

Dan returns a minute later, holding a dark metallic box. He sits, slouching down so his nose is pressed into Phil’s side and he can look up at Phil with dark eyes.

Phil takes the box. 

It’s a dark green metallic square, reminding him of green metallic envelopes. He opens it. Inside are rows of chocolates and a paper listing what they are. Most seen overly sweet, the kind of thing Dan wouldn’t eat.

Dan’s nose is still pressed in Phil’s side, his legs more than halfway off the sofa. He’s ridiculous, looking up at Phil with a grin. 

Phil kisses him, quick and light, and lets him eat the first chocolate. 

“Why, though?” He asks finally, having tasted a couple and decided they were the best thing he’s ever had. Dan must have spent more money than he should have.

Dan shrugs, cheeks tinting the lightest shade of pink, that rosey spot on his jaw going darker. “You’ve been working too much,” he says finally, hesitantly. 

“Oh,” Phil says stupidly. 

“There might be a reservation, too. With a balcony.” 

Phil pulls him up, too long legs still about to fall off. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. 

Dan looks pleased. He puts the lid back on the box and sets it aside, takes Phil’s hand in two of his. “I’m sorry I made you worry before.”

Phil smiles a bit. “It’s not your fault.” He starts to say more, wants to apologize for being so stupid, but Dan leans forward and slides his hands under Phil’s shirt. 

“No apologies. I’ll tickle you.” 

“Dan-“

“No.” The pads of Dan’s fingers brush along his ribs. Phil lets out a small squeak. “Don’t say sorry. You aren’t allowed.”

“But-“ Phil presses his lips together. 

“Phil. It’s not your fault. I’m an idiot and I didn’t think you’d worry.” Dan curls around him, no longer tickling, eyes so gentle. “You can feel however you want, you dingus.”

“Okay.” Phil swallows. 

Dan relaxes, teeth releasing his lip. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	8. super kawaii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for so many comments and kudos! I never expected this fic to be as popular as it is. 
> 
> We’ve all been waiting for it. Here’s some 2009 phan.
> 
> Also, this is a sick!fic but it doesn’t have any throwing up, just descriptions of Dan feeling nauseous.

@AmazingPhil wild @danisnotonfire fell asleep 

@AmazingPhil (picture attached) Awr super kawaii ^-^ should I draw on him?

“Please stop,” Dan says.

Phil is checking his temperature. It involves damp kisses and a thermometer on his forehead. And more kisses after that. 

Dan isn’t complaining about the kisses. Just the annoying beeping of the thermometer and Phil’s insistence he keep perfectly still. He’s coughing every two seconds, for fuck’s sake. 

“If you aren’t going to put that thing somewhere useful I’ll steal it,” Dan threatens, reaching for it. 

Phil makes a displeased sound, but sets the thermometer down and sits on the edge of the sofa. 

“You couldn’t have bought one for my ass?” Dan questions, just to fill the silence.

He looks up at Phil through his eyelashes. Phil doesn’t look offended at that, or pleased, or anything.

Dan huffs and collapses into his blanket nest, petulant and bored.

Dan’s been buried under every blanket the Lesters have in their linen cupboard. Drunk steaming tea until he thinks his bladder will explode. Eaten enough burnt, overly buttery toast that his stomach is queasy from more than just a slight fever.

He does feel poorly, enough that he doesn’t want to move too much. He appreciates Phil caring and feeding him toast. 

He’s just going slightly mad.

Phil tries to subtly cover his exposed foot. 

Dan groans. 

-

“Phil?” Dan croaks. 

It’s sometime late. His sleep schedule is fucked after watching movies all day and taking weird, disorientating naps. 

He’s feeling worse, too, the afternoon leaving and taking his amusement with it. His cheeks feel warm, his throat hurts and they’ve run out of cough drops.

He just wants a cuddle but doesn’t want to ask Phil, doesn’t want to make him sick. 

He feels sticky and gross, sweaty under layers of hand-made quilts and fluffy throws.

Phil looks over. “Dan?” He feels Dan’s temperature again, but the cool hand feels nice instead of irritating.

Shit, his head hurts a lot. 

Dan’s eyes flutter closed. He’s glad the other Lesters are out of town. Phil seeing him sweaty and pale and covered in snot, curly hair in knots is bad enough.

Phil’s eyes narrow, almost like he knows what Dan’s thinking. Dan squirms around, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve.

That must look so disgusting. 

His stomach turns over. He pushes Phil’s hand away and turns on his side, hiding his face in a blanket fold. “Can you turn that program back on?” He whispers, throat hurting. 

Phil moves off the sofa. He hears the click of lights being turned off and then the tv being turned on. It’s some kind of late night cop drama, but it’s enough to lull him to sleep. 

Phil’s hand brushes his hair off his face and presses another damp kiss to his forehead.

-

“Dan?” 

Dan mutters something unintelligible. He doesn’t want to open his eyes. They feel sticky, stuck together and dry. He barely registers Phil’s gently nudging hands or how suffocatingly hot he feels, trapped under layers and layers of cotton.

“Dan, you need to sleep in a bed.” 

Dan groans, cracks his eyes open. Phil hasn’t turned the lights back on, only the hall one illuminating the side of his face.

“I-“ That does make sense. He wouldn’t want a sick teenager sleeping on his sofa if he were Phil’s parents. “Okay.” He shifts, stomach rolling and fluttering.

Phil’s hand slides into his palm, grip tight and reassuring. He puts another arm around Dan’s waist and pulls him up gently.

The room sways. Dan clutches Phil’s hand and the back of his shirt. He feels awful.

“Phil-“ He doesn’t know what he wants to say. 

“It’s okay,” Phil shushes him, squeezes his hand. “Do you need the toilet?”

“Uh-“ Dan is very relieved that he doesn’t need the toilet. He’s not ready to pee in front of Phil, sick or not. 

He shakes his head. 

“Okay.” Phil looks like a man on a mission. His arm around Dan is steadying. Dan leans, yawn escaping and making his throat burn. 

He lets Phil steer him toward the stairs, barely protests when Phil mostly carries him up the stairs. It’s nice, and he’s too sick to feel very embarrassed.

“Do’en mention this tomorrow,” he mumbles, face mostly hidden in Phil’s shirt. His stomach rolls again, making him freeze.

No, he can’t throw up on Phil. Please. 

Phil loosens his grip on Dan, seeming to understand. “Take a deep breath through your mouth,” he instructs.

Dan does. The nausea subsides, a small smile taking it’s place. “Are you my-my midwife?” 

Phil’s eyebrows crease. He probably thinks Dan is hallucinating and needs to be in hospital.

“I’m not hallucinating, Phil.” Suddenly everything is very funny. He shuffles up another step, finds it was the last one. 

“If I was I’d make it something interestin’. Like, a sponge bath or something. Would you give me a sponge bath if I was about to die?”

Phil makes a choked off sound, like he’s trying not to laugh. They make their way down the hall. “Probably. What kind of sponge bath?” 

“Probably not erotic as I’d be dying.”

Phil pushes open his bedroom door with his foot. Dan’s tired, slightly delirious heart warms. He’s stayed in Phil’s room every time he visits, as long as the Lesters aren’t home. 

But he’s sick. He’ll most likely keep Phil up with his coughing and his tissue blowing, or tossing and turning.

It feels intimate, in a strange way. Like something you’d do with a boyfriend. A person you’d known for a while.

Phil pulls the covers back and settles him on the edge of the bed. “D’you want anything?” 

Dan tugs at his sleeve. He wants that off, and his pajama bottoms. Phil is a furnace and he’s turned the heating up besides. 

Phil catches the movement. “Lift your arms?” He asks slowly, fingers finding the bottom of Dan’s jumper.

Dan does, heart quickening. This isn’t sexy in the least. It’s gentle, and caring, and it’s the way Phil keeps Dan’s ears from catching as he pulls the jumper off his head. 

He’s left in a loose t-shirt and his bottoms. Goosebumps rise and Phil rubs them quickly, laughing. 

“Thought you were hot?” He asks, mouth lifting. 

“That’s what she said.”

They wriggle out of their pajama bottoms, and then Dan takes off his shirt because he’s sick and allowed.

This isn’t new, either. Being mostly naked near each other. Just different. Less frenzied and more like a normal thing. A domestic thing, he supposes.

Dan climbs under the blankets and raises the edge to his nose, trying to subtly inhale the scent. He wonders if liking slightly-sweaty sheets is normal.

Phil hesitates. “Do you mind-“ 

Dan shakes his head, eyes glued to the way Phil’s arms move up, the bit of chest hair that gets ruffled when he takes off his shirt. 

Phil clambers over him, leaving the lamp on. They’re of the same opinion Dan should be nearer to the toilet, apparently.

Dan just wants a cuddle. He looks at Phil out of the corner of his eye as they droop. He’s so tired. His nose is stuffed and he’ll be snoring obnoxiously the whole night. 

He sniffs, suddenly feeling stupid. 

“Hey,” Phil scoots forward and gives him that perfect Phil hug that he’d been craving.

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck.” He wipes his eyes quickly.

Fuck, he must be smearing his red, drippy nose all over Phil’s shoulder. He leans away. “I don’t want to make you sick.” 

“We’ve been around the same germs, haven’t we?” Phil shrugs around him. 

Dan nods feebly, trying to keep his eyes open. He feels bad for wasting the precious amount of time they have. 

Phil cups the sides of his face. His hands are blessedly cold. His fingers strokes under Dan’s eyes, soothing the dark circles and painful skin. 

“Thanks,” Dan whispers, almost melting into Phil’s hands. He yawns, a jaw cracking thing that makes them both laugh quietly.

“Now sleep,” Phil says pointedly, leaving no room for argument. 

Dan lays down, Phil reaching over him and turning the lamp off, casting them into darkness. 

Except for the hint of light coming from under the door. From the bathroom, maybe.

Phil’s arm curls around Dan’s middle, avoiding his unhappy stomach, and his knees press into the back’s of Dan’s. 

“G’night,” Dan whispers, cocooned in warmth and the smell of Phil. 

“Sleep tight,” Phil whispers back. He kisses the base of Dan’s neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t make it in to the chapter, but I like to think Phil asked Dan’s permission before sharing the pic of him, since he was sick in this story lol. I definitely wouldn’t appropriate that being tweeted without my permission.
> 
> :)
> 
> Also, I’m really sorry, but before writing this I didn’t actually know that “kawaii” means “cute.” 
> 
> Wow, Phil. Wow.


	9. #srsbsnss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not completely happy with this chapter and I’m not sure why. Maybe it feels sort of rushed? But at the same time I don’t want to drag it out. 
> 
> Anyway. I’m not dead. Yay! Or I did die and came back from the dead to finally update this thing.

@AmazingPhil Dan looks like a swimming bear when he swims. we are underwater splashing with goggles and everyone else is 50 and #srsbsnss

Dan is in the water, screaming about things eating his toes. Phil isn’t too worried. 

Phil stretches his arms, hearing a satisfying pop in his neck. All the tension seems to be draining out of him. He’s on the beach, quietly watching Dan, sifting sand between his fingers. 

Yesterday, Dan had joked about wanting a shell bracelet, said that Phil should make him one as a token of his affections. 

Phil picks a pretty white shell out of the sand and pockets his little collection. 

Dan trips over something in the water and falls, shrieking. 

“Are you okay?” Phil calls, trying to keep a smile off his face. 

Dan surfaces, wiping water from his eyes. He makes a face. “Thanks for the concern, Phil.” 

Phil reaches for him, making grabby hands, probably looking like a lovesick idiot. 

It’s just-Dan’s not wearing a shirt and the sight of all that wet, freshly tanned skin is slightly overwhelming. It’s just there. All the time. Within his reach.

Being mostly alone, for the first time since they arrived, is slightly overwhelming too. 

The other people they’re with have gone on a hike, somewhere. Dan had whined about his legs hurting, about being horrifyingly unfit, had given Phil pointed looks the whole time.

Looks that meant he wanted to be alone, with Phil. It’d made Phil’s chest ache.

“Hi,” Dan says, moving to sit near him and scooping up sand in his hands, picking out bits of broken shells and sea glass. 

Phil just can’t seem to stop looking, now they’re all alone. It’s calm, the waves a steady noise in the background, and his fingers itch to run his hands along all that skin. 

He’s a firm presence next to Phil, in a way Phil doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to. 

“Hey,” Phil says, his voice saying more than he means it to. There’s something about this place that feels magical, in a way. He can’t explain it, not with words. 

Dan looks up from the sand, squinting in the setting sun. There’s a small, secretive grin on his face, like he knows just what Phil’s thinking.

It’s slightly overwhelming.

“Are you good?” Dan asks, abandoning his shells and pushing himself into Phil’s space, long, warm arms winding around Phil’s sides and up to his neck, fixing his fringe and almost poking his eye out.

The beach is almost empty, save for an older couple a while away with their grandchildren. They’d helped each other take pictures before. They’re fine, they’re alone. 

“No. I have a serious problem,” Phil says, watching Dan’s eyebrows crease. He looks skeptical, but a bit worried anyway. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes, it’s growing on me right now,” Phil says, curling an arm around Dan’s ribs. “Like a fungus.” The dimples cave in. They’ve barely vanished since they came here. 

“Oh, shut up. Be quiet.” Dan shakes his head. He kisses Phil’s cheek, though, just shy of his mouth. “I was worried.”

“Mmm.”

They watch the sunset, Dan finding one of Phil’s hands and brushing grains of sand off it, fingertips gentle on his knuckles. Somehow he’s looking at Phil instead of this wonderful, magical place they’re in. 

The sky is a mixture of golden-red swirls, purple and blue stripes. It’s reflecting back at them, onto the ocean, at the gentle waves that tickle their ankles and knees, onto Dan’s eyes. 

“Phil,” Dan says, and it sounds like something else.

Phil hums, pulling Dan closer, almost on his lap, squeezing tightly. Dan is a big bundle of heat and smooth, damp skin and adoring eyes. “My Dan-fungus. My perfect, sweet Dan-fungus. Dan-gus.” 

“Fuck off, stooop,” Dan says, whiny and pleased. That spot on his jaw is going red and he looks disgruntled, but he puts an arm around Phil’s neck and another around his shoulders anyway. 

“This is gross,” he says, mouth pulled down in a grumpy line. “We’re like a boring stock photo right now.” 

Phil pouts. “Thanks, Dan. I’ve only taken you to Jamaica. Nothing special. Very boring.”

“Only Jamaica,” Dan echoes. 

He’s looking at Phil again, that way he always does. Like he’s detailing every little part of Phil, trying to memorize him for some very important test.

Phil almost wants to look away. 

“Boring,” he says, instead of the hundred other things he wants to say. Dan kisses his cheek, his nose, the edge of his mouth.

“Tease,” Phil mutters. He loves it. 

“You taste like salt,” Dan says, nose wrinkling. He leans away, licking his bottom lip.

“That’s what she said.”

“No, that’s what he said,” Dan corrects, looking at Phil’s mouth. 

Then they’re kissing, somehow harshly and gently at the same time. Dan bites at Phil’s bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, taking Phil’s breath with him. 

Phil pulls him closer with a hand on the back of his neck, sliding into his hair. He can’t seem to stop touching those curls, frizzy from humidity. 

Dan’s hands spread out over his back, feeling along the bumps in his spine. Phil’s fingers find the dimples in Dan’s lower back. 

Dan breaks away with a small noise, inhaling deeply. “Let’s go inside?” He asks, breathless. “Don’t want to scar the old people.”

“And the kids,” Phil adds, taking a deep breath. 

He can feel Dan’s chest rising and falling against his own, the little droplets of water collecting in his collarbones from his hair. 

The multicolored water is higher now, almost reaching their bags, brushing against Phil’s thighs and Dan’s knees. 

Dan trails his fingers in a little wave, biting his lip again. His fringe is starting to dry, curling up above his eyebrow.

“Just let me take a picture of the sunset first,” Phil says, eyes on him.

He makes Dan stand in the water for it, facing away, just a barely defined silhouette surrounded by hazy gold and yellow light.

“You’ll accidentally delete this later,” Dan says, pretending to be grumpy, like he always does. “Or drop your phone.”

Phil does almost drop his phone in the water, but it’s worth the picture and Dan’s high-pitched laugh

And the sweet, salty kisses. 

-

@AmazingPhil there’s a loud owl outside. me and dan are going to catch   
it 

Something is tickling along Phil’s ribs. He makes a noise into his pillow, soft and irritated. 

The something giggles. “Listen.”

Phil rubs his eyes, turning over and nearly jumping out of bed. Dan’s eyes are just an inch away, pupils dilated in the dim light. “Fuck,” Phil whispers, retreating into his blanket nest.

Dan giggles again, biting his lip. “There’s an owl outside.” He looks childish in his excitement, eyes big and round, listening intently. 

“Are there owls in Jamaica?” Phil closes his eyes. He can hear the owl, and Dan’s steady breathing next to him. And the waves, louder than before, pulled this way and that by the wind. 

“Of course there are, you idiot.” Dan hesitates. “Are there?”

“Well, if that isn’t an owl then what is it?” Phil says, not really paying attention. He pulls at Dan’s arms half-heartedly. “Lay down, c’mon. We have owls in England. I want cuddles.”

“But that’s a Jamaican owl.” Dan slides out of bed and opens the curtains a crack, looking outside.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Phil reminds him. Dan just shrugs and steals a blanket off the bed, wrapping it around himself. 

Phil sighs and flops down. “Don’t go outside. Please.” He’s not in the mood to be arrested. Or to save Dan from a scary Jamaican prison. Even if the idea of saving Dan is kind of appealing.

In a completely hypothetical scenario, where Phil can do it while he’s in bed sleeping.

“I won’t, oh my God.” Dan huffs and closes the curtains. Phil thinks he’s coming back to bed but he keeps going, searching through their bags. “Where’s your phone?”

“Where’s yours?” Phil asks, sneaking it off the side table and under his pillow. Dan isn’t sneaking outside in a blanket to take pictures of an owl in the middle of the night. 

“It’s dead,” Dan says, “forgot to charge it.” He moves around the bed and sticks his hand under Phil’s pillow. Phil sighs. At least the blanket has mostly fallen off Dan. 

He stares up at him appreciatively, until Dan finds the phone and smacks Phil’s bum. “Bad Phil, lying to your boyfriend.”

Phil’s heart skips a beat. It sounds stupid, and ridiculous, and immature. But Dan’s grinning down at him too, and that makes it alright.

Dan records the owl, then Phil’s sleepy eyes, then takes a picture of them together, his chin hooked over Phil’s shoulder, legs over Phil’s like an overgrown sloth.

Phil steals the phone and accidentally drops it on the floor on the way to the nightstand. 

Dan heaves a sigh into Phil's neck. Phil squirms. “You’ve broken it,” Dan says, voice going sleepy. 

“No, it’s fine.” Phil isn’t too sure, but he’s not moving. Not for anything. 

“Sure, okay,” Dan says.

Phil turns around in his arms, looking at him seriously. “Dan,” he starts. Stops. 

“Yeah?” Dan frowns. His fingers trace over Phil’s ribs absently. 

“Goodnight.” He tucks himself under Dan’s chin, face flushing. 

“You were going to save you looove me,” Dan says with an evil laugh, tightening his hold on Phil. 

He’s surrounding Phil in warmth and it’s making Phil feel all choked up suddenly.

“Never. How could I love a fungus?”

Dan kicks him, hard. “I hate you so much. You’re so mean to me.” He’s pouting against Phil’s shoulder. 

Phil says, finally, “Thanks for coming with me.”

Dan smiles, dimples wide and his eyes scrunching shut. “I couldn’t let you go alone,” he pauses, smile curving up, “and be stolen by some Jamaican person with a boat.”

Phil laughs, catching Dan’s lips in a quick kiss. Or it’s meant to be quick, but Dan is suddenly all over him, tracing down his neck and the dip in his collarbone, whispering something Phil can’t quite hear.

He pulls Dan back up. “What?”

“I said ‘are you tired?’” Dan looks at him, mischievous and filthy.

Phil can’t exactly say he’s tired now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	10. this special guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who’s (or whose? The one grammar rule I’ll never understand) back, with a fic based around a tweet everyone else has already written, and an inconsistent writing style that doesn’t go with the rest of this fic—
> 
> ME
> 
> (All jokes aside, I really didn’t mean to abandon this fic for so long. ;( I’ll try to update more often!!)

_@danielhowell having a romantic bath with this special guy_

Phil keeps poking Dan’s side with his toes. In an ideal world everyone would be over six feet and tubs would be made bigger, but it isn’t an ideal world. 

This must be one of the biggest baths in London and they’re still crumpled up together, feet on sides and knees pressed together, soapy, purple, pink and blue water sloshing around dangerously.

“Stop taking pictures,” Phil whines. He wants a nice bath, with a nice expensive candle, and a nice boyfriend that isn’t taking a hundred pictures with a _duck,_ of all things.

Dan finally stops when Phil threatens to knock his very expensive, semi new phone into the bath. 

“As if,” Dan snorts, mumbles something like “CapitaLester,” but puts the phone down on the toilet. 

Phil makes a face at the name. It’s Dan new favorite thing but he’s still not sure how he feels about it. It is true, no doubt about it, but he doesn’t know if he likes being reminded of it. It’s almost...embarrassing?

Dan must see his conflicted expression (of course), because he turns and squishes himself between Phil and the side of the tub, chin tilted up on Phil’s shoulder, a pout on his mouth. 

And probably covers their bathroom floor in water. 

Phil looks down at him. “Can I help?” 

Dan’s expression is soft, a hint of teeth in his smile. “I don’t know, can you?” 

Phil shifts, moves an arm to rest around Dan’s side under the water. Miles and miles of warm skin is pressed together, making Phil unconsciously relax and lean into him. 

There’s no time to be sour when he’s with his favorite person. 

Dan kisses his shoulder. “We should do this more often. Fuck the environment.” 

“Danny.” 

“Baaabe,” Dan draws the word out teasingly. “If you can worry over names like ‘CapitaLester’ I can have guilty baths.”

“Hmmph.” Phil closes his eyes, giving in, enjoying the feeling of Dan rubbing up and down his arm. He could get used to this relaxing, guilty waste of water.

Something cold and plastic settles on his knee, where it’s stuck up against the tile with nowhere else to go.

It’s the fucking duck.

“I hate that thing,” Phil glares at the duck and the duck seems to glare back. “I swear it’s looking at me.” 

“Yes, David is definitely looking at you,” Dan says, voice higher and straining not to laugh.

“....Boreanaz?”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but the slight shaking of his body is enough.

“I absolutely hate you.” Phil closes his eyes, knocking the duck off his knee. “I want a divorce.”

—

Phil is cooking dinner, trying out a new recipe his mum had sent him, when he gets the notification.

Dan had asked if Phil minded him tweeting one of his selfies, after they were dried off and wearing soft pajamas. Phil had said _no, of course not,_ and Dan had dropped it. 

_having a romantic bath with this special guy._

Phil smiles slowly. 

Dan comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his waist and inhales near his neck. “Smells good,” he mumbles.

“Me or the soup?” Phil asks, locking his phone and setting it on the counter. 

Dan catches his hand. “Both.”

“Sap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little thing :)
> 
> If you have any tweet suggestions let me know in the comments!!

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](https://nostalgiclondon.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> Hopefully the title doesn’t make you cringe...


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